


Beautiful People

by madamguillotine



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Artist Grantaire, M/M, Sad Grantaire, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23171050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamguillotine/pseuds/madamguillotine
Summary: Some bug facts laid down by Combeferre helps Grantaire on a bad day
Relationships: Combeferre & Grantaire (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Kudos: 16





	Beautiful People

Grantaire often drew pictures of his beautiful friends. He had photos of them all over his apartment. When he was down, he’d draw a picture of one or a few of his friends happy and it would help his morose mood. He used different techniques and mediums for each of them. For instance, he’d use acrylic for Enjolras because of the intense colours. He’d draw Bossuet in pencil so accidents can be erased. He’d experiment, of course but it always felt wrong.

Today, he went to class and got an assignment to draw a self portrait. It was only a matter of time but he draws himself, if he can help it. He’s just not the wandering beauties he surrounds himself with and lets them know it as often as he can. He’s simply… not.

Joly’s flawless skin held up against his scars. Enjolras’s thin frame against his soft, rotund body, if he was taller, he’d eclipse Enjolras completely. Bossuet’s charming smile held against his muckle-mouthed grin. He sighed as this and more ran through his mind. He doodled little, one stroke stars in the margins of a notebook was supposed to be taking the minutes of the meeting in.

The meeting was coming to a close and things were coming to an end as the groups’ collective attention drifted and broke apart. Courfeyrac was shamelessly sprawled out on Combeferre, he was another beauty with his bright eyes and bouncy curls. He looked at them and touched his own mop of black curls, he needed a shower for sure. His hair felt greasy but his hair was always greasy, not like Courfeyrac’s. He sighed, inaudibly.

Combeferre looked at Grantaire’s doodles, he smiled sympathetically.

“Grab a drink and a bite?”

“Here?” Grantaire asked, a little surprised. It was Wednesday, their planned day off, so they usually spent it together. He looked at Courfeyrac, who had sat up, giving his boyfriend some breathing space, which was rare.

“Why not? They serve good food here, right? Good wine, good food and good people. Just what a body needs,” Combeferre smiled.

“Is that your medical opinion?” asked Grantaire with an eyebrow raised.

“Not everything that’s good for you is something you can write on a prescription pad,” he said firmly, “You get the table, I’ll order drink. Coke?”

“With a shot of whiskey. Lots of whiskey. In fact, a neat whiskey,” He said, handing Bahorel the minutes notebook as everyone dispersed. Combeferre ordered their food and drinks to be delivered to the table, paid and sat down.

“Bad day?” he asked looking at Grantaire staring at his thick hands.

“Not particularly… I mean it’s been… fine… just…”

“Just?”

“We got an assignment to draw a self portrait…”

“Oh…”

“Now you can see me problem!”

“I can see you’re self conscious,”

“I’m not doing it. It’s bad enough they have to look at me _in_ class. Why do they need a relic?” he said, thanking the server who brought them their drinks and food. He took a sip of his neat whiskey and sighed.

“I think it’ll would be good for you. I mean, taking a hard look at- “

“I have. Every time I shave.” He said, flatly.

“I mean, you draw such lovely pictures of all of us. Your art brings out the best in the subject,”

“I draw what I see. That’s all,” he said taking another sip.

“That last picture of Courf and I you gave us... You somehow made my permanent 5’o’clock shadow, acne scars and double chin look… beautiful. I think you need to do this assignment,” he said, earnestly. Grantaire was shocked to hear him speak like this, to him ‘Ferre had always looked like a Greek god. Wisdom written on his brow and stern, heavy eyes.

“But you _are_ beautiful! Your flaws only make you human!”

“You’re beautiful too. And I’m going to make it my mission to see that,”

Grantaire drained his uncounted glass of straight whiskey.

“You wanted a mission and for your sins you got one!” he laughed, swaying a bit. “I may not be beautiful now,” he exclaimed, standing up. “But one day, I’m going to emerge from my cocoon a beautiful butterfly.

“Actually. You’re going to be a beautiful _moth_ ,” Combeferre, still seated but equally drunk from much less. “ _Butterflies_ come from chrysalises,”

Grantaire’s eyes lighted up and smiled.

“Combeferre. I have an idea about how to do my assignment…”

“Oh?”

“I’ll draw myself as a moth. I spent my life trying to be a butterfly. But I’m not a butterfly. I’m a moth, but moths are beautiful too, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are, R. Of course they are.”


End file.
